


in the (movie theatre) somewhere

by lillyfmack



Category: I’ll Give You The Sun
Genre: M/M, brianandnoah, brianconnelly, igyts - Freeform, illgiveyouthesun, noahsweetwine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:15:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23257546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillyfmack/pseuds/lillyfmack
Summary: i’m yearny and miss my girlfriend during this lovely quarantine so here’s some of brian’s perspective that’s mostly just me projecting!
Relationships: Brian Connelly/Noah Sweetwine
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	in the (movie theatre) somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> i’m yearny and miss my girlfriend during this lovely quarantine so here’s some of brian’s perspective that’s mostly just me projecting!

He had been drawing me. That day, in the woods when I told him about the planets and said not to worry but really I meant I love you, too. He felt it, right? When he turned to go and I grabbed his sleeve and it was like I was living on the sun (even though I would burn up millions of miles before I got near the surface).

But the laws of science don’t apply to Noah Sweetwine, they never have. He has this way of flying above it all, like he doesn't have a care in the world but I know he does, because he’s scared and I don’t know what of. 

And even though I told Noah not to worry, I do. I worry a lot, each time we’re at the Spot and I touch his arm but Fry or someone is looking, and I have to remind myself not to go near him. It doesn’t really work though, not when he’s so- him. And in the same breath it’s easy, so easy to brush our hands when I have something to stop me, these groups of people who’d surely beat us up or something if I went too far, touched him too long. But when we're alone I know I can’t go near him or I’ll never stop, and I can’t lose him.

Like on the roof, with The Twins. God, I was so close to just kissing him right then I couldn’t take it. But something made him leave like that and even though it hurt my every cell and atom I knew I couldn’t chase after him. He says he’s never kissed anyone, meaning anyone, and I’m certain I’ll scare him off if I tried. Not that I’ve kissed anyone either, at least in the way that counts. 

But I’m pretty sure (keyword: pretty) he has it too. The lightning. Not just when we touch, sometimes I just have to look at him and I lose my breath. It’s unreal, He's unreal. It’s like, I know there’s a scientific explanation for everything, the sun, the trees, the sky. Everything except one Noah Sweetwine. 

Science even has an explanation for the little voice inside my head, talking to itself, rambling on, and an explanation for how even thinking about him makes me feel like he’s right here, beside me, talking to me and he’s so close I can feel his breath and-.

My little voice doesn’t get to complete that fantasy because another interjects: Courtney Barret’s. But this time outside my head. We have great timing, my voice and hers. 

“Brian?” It’s like tinsel and bubblegum got stuck together in some type of Californian-Christmas fiasco. Noah calls her a hornet. If I try hard enough I can drown her words out until they’re just a buzz in the background, present, but ignorable. But now she’s said my name maybe three times, I lost count, and I have to respond at some point. I nod at her (that counts, right?) because I’d like to keep some semblance of courtesy, at least to spare her feelings. I know inside her exoskeleton she must have a few, and some part of me hurts that I’m lying to them. 

I realize I don’t actually know why she was calling my name until it’s starting me in the face, or rather, he is. The Sun. 

“Noah!” I can't take my eyes off him even if I wanted to. Except it burns them up like a solar eclipse and eventually I have to look away, to the perplexed expression of the girl I am supposed to be on a date with. In the time it takes me to realize my reaction to his appearance is a bit too much, I notice Heather by his side. While the guilt of this delayed realization enters my system I know I can hardly be blamed: she doesn’t glow nearly as bright as he does. 

“Heather!” I can tell she’s confused too, but her gaze isn’t as accusing. Maybe she saw the power lines running between him and I, how nobody can break them. 

I can tell he’s looking at me now because his look goes right into my head and across my whole body, and I can feel it heating up the room. It’s times like these where I can't look at him. Certainly not because I don’t want to, but because I would simply die if I did, plain as day. Maybe there isn’t a scientific explanation for that, either. But it’s a fact, undisputable. My heart would start beating faster and then it would go too fast and it would make my body heat all the way up and my lungs would seize and overall it wouldn't be a fun way to die. So I elect not to look at him, as hollow as it leaves me. 

We’re walking now, because we’re in a place, a public place, and I suddenly realize me and Noah are entirely not the only people on Earth. Bummer. With Noah here now I momentarily forget all my guilt about Courtney, because I get to talk to him now and isn’t that what life is about, talking to Noah Sweetwine? 

“You excited for the movie? Aliens are like, cool right?” he’s being fake-cool, fake-Noah but I don’t blame him. Half the time I’m fake-Brian anyway. Maybe not today though. 

“Actually there's nearly a 100% chance that alien life exists somewhere in the universe, intelligent life perhaps more so than ourselves, we just have to find a way to contact them. Or, more likely, interpret the way they have or will contact us into our own written or spoken languages.” It’s crazy that there may be life out there that has all the answers to our unsolvable problems, or the tech to traverse galaxies like Star Wars, and all we have to do is find a way to communicate with them. 

This makes him chuckle, which was the goal. I guess that’s always my goal, to make him laugh, or feel happier. From the first time I heard his laugh I never wanted to stop hearing it.

“Dude”, he says, but he’s smiling still.

“I know, I know, whatever. I can't help it, it’s who I am.” This is a good opportunity to punch him, right? Guys do that when they’re friends are teasing them, they punch each other on the arm. I do, and it definitely looks forced but it doesn’t matter because the lightning is back and it’s strong as ever, because it’s not like a the The Spot: now I can see his face under the lights of the movie theatre lobby, and it’s blushing red like mine, and I know he feels it too. 

It takes forever for us to get to our seats, or maybe only a few seconds because I’m still seeing the way his face looked when I touched his arm, just his arm, and I can’t get over it. I can't help but think what his face would look like if I touched him somewhere that wasn’t just his arm, or god forbid I kiss him, what he’d look like then. But now Courtney is pushing past me and into her seat, and it brings those thoughts to a sliding stop. I’m supposed to be her date, not his.

I’m acutely aware of Noah deciding to sit next to me, when he easily could have sat on the other side of Heather, and I pray the lights go down quick so nobody can see the ecstasy blooming on my face. 

The movie begins, and instantly my attention is lost. It isn’t that alien invasion movies are inaccurate (they are), or that there weren't even that many scenes in actual space (there weren’t), it's that the light from the movie screen hits his face just right and it’s like he’s immortal. Not a god, because they’re too stuck-up, but like the perfect star glowing in the sky. 

It doesn’t matter what scene, even the insane space battles, he’s more perfect each time. I watch each way his face moves with the movie and every time I swear he invents a new language, a new set of emotions just for me. I know I cant keep this up or someone, maybe him, will notice me staring and that is just not an option.

I try and keep my face on the screen but I have to do something else, something, so I push my leg towards his, just inch it slowly so if I made a mistake and he doesn’t feel the lightning then I can laugh it off and say it was all a coincidence, I wasn’t moving my leg towards his. But his leg moves too I’m sure it does! and pretty soon they’re touching and it’s so much more than looking at him, than pretending to punch him because this lingers and stays, but so does the lighting, growing stronger and stronger for each second that passes, so strong I lost count of the seconds though I’m sure it’s only a few.

I’m certain the electricity is about to kill  
me when it’s just gone, and Noah is too, mumbling something about “bathroom” or whatever. Well shit, there was my answer. Oh glorious Shit. I can still play the keg thing off, right? But what about the punch that was so clearly not a natural occurrence? Each “oh fuck” builds up and they’re ready to boil over when I realize he pushed his leg too. It wasn’t just me, I’m certain of it, his leg was moving like mine towards each other. So then why did he leave? Why did he go so fast? Maybe he thought he would explode too, thought the electricity would overpower him like it would for me. 

He’s back as fast as he left and so is the rise in temperature I didn’t realize had gone with him. I’m sure the room will boil with something, whatever this thing is that’s happened between us. And it’s happening again, not even voluntarily. My leg is moving back towards his, like the way I don't have to tell my heart to beat to keep me alive. When they press together this time it’s somehow more than it was before like a waterfall or a tsunami but instead of water it’s fire, so much it almost hurts. 

When he doesn’t leave again I take a chance to look over: his eyes are stuck to the screen but not watching the movie, because they stay locked in the same corner of the screen as his face burns redder and redder. I know mine is probably like a tomato, but honestly I can’t care less. Right now, there’s only the two of us, together, and whatever electricity we’re creating, so much it could power my whole house.

His hand is out of his pocket, where I swear it was only a second ago, and pressed so hard against the arm of the chair. On its own my hand reaches out and grabs it, so fast I almost miss it. Almost but not quite, because I can’t miss the way my mouth goes dry and my heart stops and I’m sure I’m about to take my last breath. But I don’t, I keep breathing in air, gasping it nearly as I squeeze his hand under the arm of the chair, just to make sure it’s still there. And there’s nothing in this world that could make me let go of it.


End file.
